


You and I Were Fireworks

by HarlequinSmiles



Category: PewDiePie (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Fourth of July, Happy Ending, M/M, Social Anxiety
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-05
Updated: 2016-07-05
Packaged: 2018-07-21 15:14:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7392640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HarlequinSmiles/pseuds/HarlequinSmiles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(title from Fall Out Boy's 'Fourth of July')</p><p>Felix has never seen real-life Fourth of July celebrations, and goes to Cry for help.<br/>Cry really, really, REALLY does not like public events. So Fort Lauderdale on July fourth is likely to become the literal definition of Hell for him.<br/>Combined with Felix's post-breakup melancholy mood, there's no possible way that this could be anything but fantastic.<br/>Ah, the things we do for love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You and I Were Fireworks

It’s long since been established that Cry hates public events.

People in general are just kinda… blegh… but high quantities they’re pretty much his worst nightmare. There’s noise and pushing and the feeling that crawls up the back of his neck that every single person in the area is staring at him.

So why is he emotionally preparing himself to go to one of the biggest Fourth of July celebrations in Florida?

Because Felix fucking Kjellberg called him up three days ago to ask if he could come and visit, and Cry, being one of the biggest fuzzy pushovers in recorded history, agreed straight away. No questions, no moment of ‘ _let me just think about this’_. Cry’s an idiot, and he obviously can’t think about the consequences of having the biggest YouTuber in the world around for Fourth of July celebrations. This means no back-lawn barbeque, because this is _Felix_ , meaning that it’s naturally ‘go big or go home’ with him.

So, Fort Lauderdale it is, and Cry’s fucking terrified.

But okay, when one of his friends- who he’s actually only ever spoken to directly over Skype- looks like he hasn’t slept in about three weeks when he calls him, a question visibly dancing on his lips, Cry had pretty much accepted that whatever Felix had to ask, Cry was going to agree.

And when the explanation had been that “ _I just need to kind of… get away from everything for a while, you know? After everything-“_ Cry kinda had to agree. There’s not many times that he’s felt sorry for Felix: not with his beautiful girlfriend, beautiful house, seemingly-perfect life, but when ‘e _verything_ ’ ended up announcing to forty six million fans that he was no longer with his girlfriend, and actually hasn’t been for a couple of weeks now, Cry actually does pity him.

Meaning that he has just about one hour until Felix should be pulling up directly outside his house, and he is in no possible way ready for this.

He’s still nowhere near ready- he’s still wearing sweatpants and a three day old t-shirt for one, not to mention that his entire house is a mess, and he isn’t actually one hundred percent sure that AK’s still in town. He hasn’t seen his cat in half a week, even though the cat food has still been disappearing the moment his back’s turned, and it’s starting to worry him.

But right now he needs to focus. He needs to change, grab together a backpack of food (because wherever you go on the Fourth of July, shit is always expensive) and maybe even make his house halfways presentable before Felix arrives.

As if on cue, his laptop chirps out a Skype notification, from Felix himself- _‘plane landed. C U in a bit?? :p’_

Ah shit, he needs to hurry up.

It’s a mad scramble as he pulls out packets of potato chips and scrapes together sandwiches and Felix said he doesn’t like vegetables in one video he made, didn’t he? God, he doesn’t want to mess this up. This is the first time he’s meeting Felix in person, and he needs to make a good impression. He has to.

He’s pushing magazines underneath his couch and throwing litter in the bin as quick as he can manage, not even looking properly to check what he’s actually discarding. He sits back on his haunches in the middle of the kitchen, running his hands across his face like he can actually drag the weariness out of his body. He really should’ve tried to actually get some sleep last night.

A quick glance up at his watch and he should have over half an hour left until Felix arrives. It’s almost midday, so if Felix gets here at the time that he’s meant to, then they should be able to get to Fort Lauderdale before Fleetwood Mac are on.

Joy of joys. Public places. He can’t wait.

Right, whatever. He just need to change, and then he’ll be ready.

And there’s a knock at his door. Shit.

Cry isn’t particularly sure what Felix thinks when he opens the screen on his door; he’s nothing or no one interesting, not like Felix himself is anyway. He’s not strong (like Felix) or attractive (like Felix). He half a head smaller than him, messy blonde hair thrown up into unkempt tufts, blue eyes hidden behind thick glasses.

He’s seen Felix’s tweets- the laundry list of times that he’s been out running, stumbled back home grinning and sweaty, and it’s paid off in the long run. Felix is lean, muscles twisting, the tattoos on his arms flexing, as he steps up and crushes Cry in a hug, like he’s some lifelong friend he hasn’t seen in months.

In reality, they’ve actually never met at all. So Cry’s pretty fucking surprised at this sudden display of affection, but he’s got to admit that he’s not against it, and he reaches up and wraps his arms around Felix’s shoulders and hugs back.

Felix pulls away with the biggest smile, his face practically splitting in two, bright blue eyes gleaming with excitement. “Dude,” he says, “it’s so fucking good to see you.”

And already, Cry’s so much less apprehensive about today.

“You too, man,” he says. “Do you, like, want to come in or something?”

Felix’s got his hands shoved deep inside his pockets as he follows Cry into his house, peering round the kitchen curiously but not saying a word. He looks exhausted, sleepless bruises underneath his eyes, shadows running down his face and into the hollows in his cheekbones. The break-up must’ve really taken it out of him. Cry finds himself wincing.

“You’re here early,” he points out, rubbing his hands down his bare arms. He’s still not properly dressed. “I wasn’t, like, expecting you yet.”

Felix nodded absentmindedly, slumping down on Cry’s couch with one hand still in the front pocket of his skinny jeans, shoulders hunched, running his fingers through his hair. “Yeah, I’m sorry about that. The taxi guy from the airport said he knew a quicker route.”

Cry lets out a breath, and it feels heavy, sticky, like cigarette smoke. “How you doing with everything, anyway? You know-“

“Listen, can we, you know, not talk about it? Not right now, anyway. I’m.,.. I’m fine, it’s just.” Felix sighs and sits back, and Cry can see the cracks in the smile he’s forcing. “How about we get going, anyway? You good for that?”

Cry excuses himself for a moment to run back to his room to change, but when he gets back a handful of minutes later, Felix still hasn’t moved from his spot on the couch. He looks up from his phone when Cry reenters the room, and this time his grin is warmer, friendlier. It’s real. Cry finds himself flushing slightly when he feels Felix’s eyes roving over him. 

“You’re taller than you look on Skype, you know man,” Felix said as he stood up and stepped over to him. Cry isn’t sure what to say to that, especially when he’s still half a head smaller than him.

He shrugs. “I’m sitting down when I’m on Skype, man. And I probably look smaller on a laptop screen, anyway.”

“Whatever dude.” Felix suddenly looks slightly unsure, and Cry suddenly wonders if he’s almost as nervous as he is. No; that’s seriously unlikely, not when Felix can hold livestreams and audiences wearing a Japanese schoolgirl outfit. “You ready to go?”

Cry’s not ready for the _sheer amount of people_ there are.

Felix is standing at his side, one arm slung over his shoulder, and he’s got to raise his voice to be heard over the noise. There’s people fucking _everywhere_ , closing in on him from all sides like a wall, a massive wave of sound and colour and red, white and blue flags waving in the air.

It’s crazy; the atmosphere practically buzzing with electricity, people of all ethnicities and ages crushed together, the smell of cooking food hanging in the air like a blanket. There were stands and shops everywhere- all advertising different things, from flags to coloured fedoras to t-shirts; Cry is kind of amazed at the sheer amount of colour and life in one area.

And these are all just on the walk down to Lauderdale beach, where the main celebrations are taking place, because everything was so busy that Felix figured that they’d probably get there quicker just by walking.

Which sounds like a wonderful idea, in theory, but Felix is the kind of guy that goes out running and _enjoys it_ , whilst Cry is perfectly happy chilling at home and keeping as far away from the outside world as possible. He’s not out of shape, not at all, but he isn’t exactly one hundred percent pure Greek god either.

It’s crazy busy when they finally get there though. There’s people and noise on every side, packed together like animals on their way to slaughter. Cry can barely breathe. Felix is having the time of his life.

“Dude!” he yells, turning to him. “This is so fucking awesome, holy shit!”

They’ve been here for a good couple of hours now, Felix dragging him around to every stall he could see by his arm, the biggest grin on his face the entire time. Felix has bought hot dogs and potato chips for both of them. and eaten at least three burgers by himself. Because of course, Cry hadn’t thought for a _second_ how stupid some little kids’ packed lunch would sound, and even though Felix had been as nice as he could, saying: “ _seriously, that sounds awesome dude, but I really want to try some of these burgers too, okay?”_ , Cry felt like an idiot.

He’s mentally kicking himself as they stumble through the crowds at some time past six in the evening, with Felix’s arm still slung over his shoulder, and he’s holding Cry so tightly that he’s got him crushed against him. Cry can feel the muscles in Felix’s chest flex every time he moves.

If he’s honest, it couldn’t be a better day for Fourth of July celebrations- it’s brilliant weather, still almost painfully hot at six in the evening, the sky brilliantly blue and flecked with clouds.

“What time are the fireworks? There’s definitely gonna be fireworks, right? ‘Cos I checked, but I just want to make sure?”

Cry grins up at him. Felix has got a coloured fedora perched on top of his baseball hat, caught at such a wonky angle that it could probably fall off at any moment. His hair is hanging in messy strands in front of his face and he’s somehow managed to get paint on his nose. Cry hasn’t even been _near_ anyone with face paint today, so he’s not too sure how that’s actually managed to get there in the first place. Felix looks like a little kid who’s been surprised with Christmas come early, and it’s the most fun Cry’s had in a long time.

“Don’t worry, friend,” he says, and he still has to raise his voice to be heard, but he’s surprised to find that he actually doesn’t mind. “They’re due later, it’s gonna be fine.”

“I wasn’t worried,” Felix insists. “Just… checking. That’s all.”

He looks so earnest, even with that cocky grin that Cry half hates and half loves, that he just smiles and shrugs. “Mmm-kay,” he says with a shrug. “Sure thing.”

There’s music and life everywhere, and even though Cry’s permanently on edge the entire time, he’s still enjoying himself. It’s gradually getting darker, colours seeping into the horizon like spilt watercolour paint, reds and oranges and pinks trickling into one another. It’s like the sky’s on fire; it’s amazing.

They’ve still got a good hour and a half until the fireworks are due to start, but the beach is still filling up with people. Somehow. He thought it was busy earlier, but now… man, if he doesn’t get crushed in the next few hours, then it’ll be a miracle. In fact, the only reason that he hasn’t lost Felix yet is because he’s had his fingers wound in the material of Cry’s shirt sleeve for the past half hour.

It’s getting busier and busier, and Cry’s being jostled from side to side like he’s absolutely nothing. He’s still got Felix’s hand on his arm, though, so he’s still totally fine, until Felix is gone, and there’s a girl pushing past him to reach Felix.

“Holy shit!” she shrieks. “Pewdiepie? Is that, like, you? Oh my god!”

She’s only a few years younger than Cry, actually, with ash blonde hair thrown up into a high ponytail, the American flag painted onto her cheek. Felix is frozen for a moment before a tight grin slips back onto his face. “Hey,” he says, and clears his throat. “Yeah, that’s me. Do you- um, like…”

“Shit, I’m sorry.” The girl flushes red and lowers her voice. “Shit, I didn’t mean to totally overreact like that, oh my god, that’s embarrassing. I’ve just watched your videos for a damn long time now, and it was kinda… I kinda got excited, sorry.”

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it.” Felix is pushing his hair away from his face and smiling down at her, and the smile on his face now seems a little less fake. “Do you want-“ He flailed his hands helplessly, eyes meeting Cry’s from his place a metre or so behind the girl, and Cry raises an eyebrow and smirks.

The girl laughs softly and fishes her phone from her pocket. “A photo? That would be amazing, actually, thank you so much. I’ll be able to set it as my new profile picture on Facebook and make everyone else jealous.”

“Sounds like a good plan,” Felix smiles, and hands her the phone back, and he gives her a hug. Cry feels a pang of… what? Jealousy?... until she turns around and gives him a sheepish smile.

“I’m sorry for like, almost knocking you out of the way and everything. I got super excited then, it was really rude of me, I’m so sorry.”

Cry shrugs and the girl stands there awkwardly for a moment, like she’s waiting for him to say something, before turning and hurrying away. He bites his lip and stares at her back, because holy shit he _really should’ve said something but he couldn’t work out what to say_ , and now some random chick probably thinks that he’s a massive asshole.

He shouldn’t be panicking about it.

He is anyway.

One glance back, and his situation has somehow worsened. He can’t see Felix. Oh shit.

Cry isn’t some little kid. He’s not some loser or dependant fuck who can’t be by himself for one instant. Far from it, actually. He’s a massive introvert, and if he’s honest, he’s going to have to relax in a dark room by himself for the next few days just to recuperate.

But this… he can’t do this.

It’s only now that he’s realising how much he’s been relying on Felix to keep him grounded. He feels sick, naked, his head spinning and chest tight. Everyone’s looking at him. He’s walking through the crowds perfectly normally, keeping his steps measured and regimentally controlled, but he’s panicking now.

Everyone’s looking at him.

It’s so busy. So noisy. Shit.

_Whyyyyyyy isssssss heeeee heeeeeere._

This was such a bad idea.

He knocks one person, just slightly, his shoulder brushing theirs, and they don’t even turn to look at him, but he can’t breathe. His chest is too tight. There’s a pressure around his head, like some force pressing against his skull, and it’s making him dizzy. He’s practically drowning; his lungs are filled with lead and weighing him down, and it’s crazy and terrifying and he’s panicking-

“Hey, are you okay?”

It’s Felix at his elbow again, Felix holding him by his elbow, Felix guiding him through the crowds and back into the streets. Felix who, when Cry nods weakly, shakes his head and says ‘no, dude, you’re white, what’s going on?’ It’s Felix who Cry clings onto as he drags in another deep breath and shakes his head like he can clear the noise from it.

It’s Felix who’s leading him down the sidewalk while Cry focuses on each brick he steps on.

Then he’s sitting down in an uncomfortable plastic chair, and his head is starting to clear properly, and Felix is sitting next to him and rubbing his back, telling him to keep taking deep breaths.

It’s Felix that he’s focusing on as he’s handed a bottle of water and told to take a mouthful of it. It’s with a fuzzy mind that he remembers that drinking can help you regulate your breathing.

It’s Felix who’s sitting next to him and staring down at him with concern. His expression is completely open, utterly vulnerable, like a little kid who’s accidentally made his friend cry.

It takes him a while, but he drags in a breath. “Shit,” he croaks. “Are you okay? I’m so fucking sorry, holy shit-“

“Hey.” Felix rests him palm on Cry’s pant leg. “You haven’t got anything to be sorry for, okay?”

Cry has so much to feel sorry for. He ended up panicking over absolutely nothing like a little kid, and Felix had to drag him away to a- where is he now? Sitting outside a Starbucks with one bored barrister hanging over the counter? He’s totally fucked up Felix’s entire day, and instead of helping him forget his own problems, Cry’s just managed to dump his own on top of him.

Brilliant. First class friendship right there.

Felix is still looking at him, curious expression on his face. He’s still wearing that dumb fedora with the American flag emblazoned on the front. It wasn’t cheap, Cry knows that much, but considering it was bought somewhere with ten dollar cups of beer, he figures that it’s not particularly good quality anyway. It’ll have probably fallen apart in a week. “Would you believe me if I told you that I actually wanted to get further away from the crowds to get a better view of the fireworks?” he asks, and Cry feels like he’s being scrutinised.

He shakes his head and breathes out a laugh. His legs aren’t shaking anymore, so that’s a plus. “I don’t think I would, friend,” he says, and Felix shrugs and turns away, tipping his head back to stare up at the sky. It’s stained a muddy brown from light pollution, flashes of sunset cutting gouges in the sky.

“We can go back down if you want,” Cry insists. “I’m totally fine, and it’d be stupid if you came all the way out here to miss what you actually came to see.”

“What I came here to see? Fireworks?” Felix raises an eyebrow and really does look confused by this point, like the Fourth of July celebrations and the Big Breakup aren’t the only reason that he’s visiting-

\- Cry derails that certain train of thought, blows up the railway station, forces himself to think of something else entirely. He’s not an idiot. And he’s pretty good at pushing aside certain stupid thoughts when they arise, so he’s surprised this one has managed to pop up again.

Felix stands up again, the chair legs screeching as they drag across the sidewalk when he pushes the chair away. “I’m gonna get something,” he says. “We’ve only got a few minutes until the fireworks are gonna start, so we should just stay here. You don’t like coffee, do you?”

Cry ‘mmm-kay’s and nods and fiddles with the bottle cap of the water until Felix returns with a tray, the barrister trailing after him with another, the same bored expression clinging to his face like an overenthusiastic leech. Cry seems to be the only one who’s surprised when the trays are put down on the opposite table, both laden with at least one of every cake produced by the Starbucks franchise.

“I wasn’t sure what you’d want.” Felix says as some sort of explanation, because Cry’s eyes must be bugging out of his skull.

“So you thought you’d get everything? Are you serious?”

Felix shrugs. “Like Noah’s Ark. Except one instead of two. And if you don’t like something, it’s fine.”

“But this is…” Cry shudders. “Like, this is _extortionate_ , dude. What are we going to do with everything we can’t eat? This is such a waste.”

“Extortionate?”

“Excessive. Too much,” Cry clarifies.

Felix grins conspiratorially and leans forward- a slow smirk that slides onto his face like a snake. “But I know something you don’t.” He reaches in closer and Cry’s frozen, heart pounding in his ears, chest tight. It’s like he having another panic attack, but this time, rather than being terrifying, it’s exhilarating instead.

Cry isn’t sure if he can breathe. “Okay, and what’s that then?”

If it’s possible, that smile seems to grow. That cocky grin that Cry hates but adores too, the smile that says that Felix almost knows what people want and how to give it to them. It’s always there in his videos- usually when he’s about to introduce a particularly anticipated new game. Felix winks. “I know that I like every cake we’ve got out here already.”

He sits back and Cry can breathe again.

“So you’re just gonna eat everything that I don’t?” Cry raises an eyebrow. “Are you sure that’s a good plan?”

“It’s the best.” Felix sits back and smiles at him; this time it’s warm and kind and so happy that Cry melts just a little bit inside.

Cry eats a grand total of two and a half muffins before he finally gives in, but Felix manages four, and Cry isn’t actually sure where all that food has gone. He groans quietly to himself, leaning back in his seat, closes his eyes, and smiles.

“So? How’s Florida treating you so far then, huh?”

He hears Felix laugh softly to himself before answering. “It’s not that bad. The service isn’t that great, but I can cope.”

Cry cracks open one eye and glares. “I made you food, you shit. You’re the one who didn’t want it.”

“Yeah, I was shit.” There’s a sigh, and maybe Felix actually sounds _guilty_. Cry didn’t mean to sound salty as he did. “I felt bad about it after, you know. And it probably pissed you off a bit.”

Cry shrugs, but he doesn’t answer. He’s full of cake and burger and he probably _is_ going to have to do some sort of exercise tomorrow, just to reduce the risk of his heart failing at some point in the day.

They’re quiet for another long minute, practically suspended in silence that hangs around them like spiders’ webs, until Cry open his eyes and frowns. “The fireworks should probably have started by-“

And there they are: at first, there’s only a handful, like they’re nervous, but then there’s more, and more, screaming into the sky and exploding into massive supernovas of colour and noise. They’re littering the sky- scarlets and violets and golds and whites- like a wild flower garden, and maybe he and Felix aren’t sitting in the prime position, but they’ve still got first-class seats to the show.

Even the Starbucks’ barrister shuffles out from behind the counter to stand in the window for a couple of seconds, just to stare at the colours lighting up the sky.

From up here, where Cry’s sitting, he can hear the noise from the beach- the cheers and laughter, the hollow thrum of music reverberating up the streets, slowly and steady and patient, like a heartbeat. He grins and stands up, cheers along with the masses down below.

After a long moment, he feels Felix do the same thing next to him.

Everything’s spectacular- it’s all so breath-taking, so stunning, and Cry’s honestly, from the very bottom of his heart, so very, very happy to be sharing it with Felix Kjellberg; the YouTube guy who’s world famous, sold books and millions of t-shirts, whose dog is better known than Cry will ever be. The guy who’s cocky and self-assured and used to make jokes on his channel that would make Cry wince and think- _‘Pewds, you really shouldn’t have said that’_.

The guy who’s so very different from the man he pretends to be in front of the camera, who’s actually very sweet and polite and cares so much about so many people that it’s almost infectious. The guy who Cry’s only really talked to over Skype and emails, but this is the first time that he’s met him properly, in person, and even though Cry’s nothing like he’s expected to be, nothing compared to Felix, he’s been treated like Felix has known him for his entire life.

The guy who skipped the celebrations he’s been looking forward to for God knows how long, for _Cry,_ out of everything, and doesn’t bat an eyelid. The guy who’s remembered that Cry doesn’t like coffee from a playthrough where Cry mentioned it in two thousand and thir-freaking-teen, and buys enough cake to give a small ox diabetes because he wasn’t sure what flavour Cry would like and didn’t think for one second to ask him.

Cry loves this guy, it’s just taken this long for him to realise it.

The air’s trembling with a cacophony from the fireworks still being set off, but Cry manages to rip his gaze from the art piece suspended, crackling, in the air, and down to Felix, who’s staring straight back at him.

He looks amazed, slightly shocked, relatively terrified, and he’s looking down at Cry like he holds the world in his hands.

His lips are moving, and Cry frowns. “What?”

Felix shakes his head slightly before chewing on his bottom lip. “Not… gay,” he chokes out. “Just… _not gay_ , just fabulous.”

Cry doesn’t have any time to register the sheer ridiculousness of Felix’s words before he’s having the breath kissed out of him.

Felix tastes of chocolate cake and strawberries, beefburgers and the peppermint chewing gum he’d had earlier in the day. One hand is clutching tight at Cry’s shoulder, like he’s a life raft he can’t afford to let go of, and the other is winding in his hair, long fingers tangling in messy blond.

Cry leans back for a moment, just one, just to catch his breath, because _what the fuck?_ His head is spinning and his stomach feels like he’s riding a rollercoaster, but this is exhilarating, terrifying, like dive-bombing off the end of a pier when you’re a little kid.

“Holy shit,” he manages, before he’s leaning back in and kissing him again.

Felix tastes of insecurities, countless, countless insecurities, all piling up in the YouTube comments like a pessimist’s list of Things That Could Go Wrong. Felix tastes of anxiety and excitement, and sleepless nights spent editing videos for the next day, of copyright claims and videos being ripped from the internet like they didn’t mean anything.

Felix reminds Cry of cups of tea and his cat jumping on top of his head halfway through recording a video. He reminds him of hours upon hours spent in front of one computer screen, laughing with the best friends he’s ever known.

Kissing Felix made Cry feel brave, like he can take on the whole fucking world with one hand, like everything that he’s ever been worried about means absolutely nothing now.

Kissing Felix is the most extraordinary thing, and just as quickly as it starts, it’s stopped.

The barista’s standing in the doorway, arms crossed. “It’s closing time,” he drones. “Ten pm. Happy Fourth of July, and thank you for coming. Please buy coffee here again soon.”

Cry could probably detect a hint of sarcasm is he actually bothers to pay proper attention, but right now, that would be physically impossible to do.

He turns back to Felix with a small smile, which drops the instant he sees his expression.

Felix looks horrified. Almost… disgusted.

Shit. What has he done?

His lips have barely formed Felix’s name before he’s pushing past him, not even looking where he’s going, shoving his hands deep into his pockets and marching briskly down the sidewalk, head down. The fireworks crackle overhead, but now it just sounds like laughter.

Oh God. What the _fuck_ has he done?

Cry’s stood in shock. Felix kissed _him,_ didn’t he? So why’s he marched off? Has he immediately regretted his decision? Does he wish he hadn’t done it at all? What was Cry thinking, kissing him back? Felix has had his heart all but torn apart in the last couple of months, so maybe it was just an immediate reaction, a desperate animal instinct for human comfort.

And Cry. Kissed. Back.

What was he _thinking?_

Oh, wait, yeah, he wasn’t.

He’s completely frozen, staring down the street at Felix’s rapidly retreating back. Give him another half a minute and Cry will lose him completely. But what else can he do?

“You should totally go after him, bud.”

The Starbucks barista is still hanging over the edge of the door, looking Cry up and down sceptically.

Cry flinches. "What?"

“Seriously. Go all rom-com on that bitch. Run after him and tell him how you feel and all that shit. He’s into you, and you’re pretty obviously into _him_ , so that’s all you can do. Otherwise you’ll lose him, and then you’re fucked dude.”

Cry turns to him. “Why do you suddenly know so much?” he snaps, and the barista just shrugs. He still looks bored of the entire affair.

“Dude, I'm not an idiot. You're a great 'Tuber, and that guy has been into you since two thousand and twelve. He went pink when you told him you loved him on the Portal video you did together. And you two flirted so much on Twitter it was almost painful. Now you sucked face and he ran off, so you should probably do something about it, don’t you think?”

Cry’s mouth is probably reaching the floor by this point, because holy _shit_ , no one's every recognised him in public before, and he'd never in a million years have thought that it'd be this kind of situation that he is, but the barista turns back into the Starbucks. He shuts the door and flipping round the ‘closed’ sign on the door, and that's pretty much the end of that conversation.

Well, Cry figures he owes that guy a tip if he ever sees him again.

But right now:

He’s running.

It’s nowhere near as hard to spot Felix as Cry had initially thought; in fact, there’s so few people wearing stupid American fedoras at stupid angles that Cry’s pretty much pinpointed Felix a minute after reaching the crowds.

“Felix!” he yells, and he’s given a few dirty looks, but not one glance back from the one person who he needs to hear him. There’s the anxiety winding itself around his throat again- he’s in a public place, he’s attracting attention- but this time he swallows it down. Not now. Not now.

“Felix!” He keeps yelling his name over and over again, keeping his eyes fixed on that stupid hat with the fantastic man underneath. “ _FELIX!”_

Finally. A reaction.

Felix stops dead in his tracks, slowly turns around, and Cry sees his gaze scour the crowd before finally landing on him. He’s a deer caught in Cry’s headlights.

He finally reaches him, panting for breath. “Why did you go?” he asks, dragging in another lungful of air before straightening up. “What the fuck was that for?”

Felix bites his lip again. He can’t meet Cry’s eyes. “I regretted it.”

And oh. Cry’s chest is suddenly filled with rocks. “What do you mean?” he presses. “C’mon, man, what?”

“Okay then.” Felix straightens up, looks Cry dead in the eyes. “Can you actually fucking imagine this being a thing? Me and you? _Us?_ Because it doesn’t matter what either of us think. This could never work, and yo; you live in America and I don’t. You’re a guy and you just know how well the internet loves to use ‘gay’ as an insult, right?. This could destroy everything you've worked for, just because of… _us_.”

Cry takes a moment. “And that’s why you left?”

They’ve got a bit of a crowd surrounding them now, like the audience in a Colosseum. Cry doesn’t pay any attention to them.

“Of course!” Felix throws up his arms in desperation. “It might not even work. Who knows what could happen.”

“’Kay, I get that,” Cry concedes, and Felix’s expression softens. He looks half disappointed that Cry didn’t fight some more. “But I like you, Felix, I like you a lot.”

And now Felix just looks surprised. “And I... I really, really do too, man. I have for so fucking long now, but-“

“Baby steps,” Cry interrupts, and the crowd seems to have given up on anything exciting now. They’re all starting to wander away again.

Felix raises his eyebrows. “What?”

“Baby steps,” he repeats. “Bit by bit. Take each day as it comes. Just… we just _try_ , Felix, see where we go. You can’t say no to that.”

The fireworks are starting to fade away no, the noise falling into nothing. Soon they’ll all be gone. There’s a small smile of Felix’s face, but it’s growing, slowly but steadily. “Baby steps?” he grins, but maybe, just maybe, Cry can see a glimmer of hope in those blue eyes of his.

Then he leans down and kisses Cry again, just once, just gently, and barks out a laugh. Then, before Cry can think to react, he’s placing his fedora on Cry’s head instead. “Baby steps,” he repeats. “I like the sound of that.”

This time, Cry leans up and kisses _him_ , and everything’s so electric, so new and exciting and _alive_ , that he grins. "You know," he begins, and there's something akin to confidence bubbling deep in his chest. "Loads of people keep celebrating way into tomorrow, you know, man. You prob- wouldn't wanna miss everything else that's going on after, right?"

"What? You asking me to stick around a while longer?" Felix is smiling, but he looks slightly sheepish too.

Cry nods seriously. "For cultural celebration purposes. Obviously."

"Obviously."

**Author's Note:**

> Welp, I was going to try and finish the chapter of my other Pewdiecry thing, but then I was like 'HAI! FOURTH OF JULY! LET'S WRITE SOME SHIT!" and this is what I ended up with.  
> It hasn't been properly edited yet, because I was up roughly until three in the morning to actually finish it in time for America's Fourth of July, but I will get round to it.  
> Eventually.  
> Also yes, very cheesy ending, but ah well.  
> And thank you so much for reading <3


End file.
